Autumn's Burning

Autumn burns in goldenrod and sweet aster
After the lazy haze of summer has faded
And we are none the wiser.
Summer lifts her raspy cough
And leaves dance from weaker boughs.
It comes; we know our nocturnal dance
All too well.

Pink and black clusters wait -
Nobody bothers to rake them away,
So I kick through them,
Feet, socks, colder, wetter.
Not enough time for busywork.